Heart's on the Front Line
by Written Fire
Summary: Camelot isn't always the most calm of places to be. But no matter what happens, Merlin knows that he has his best friend by his side, protecting him and grounding him through whatever life throws their way.


_Here it finally is! I am sorry, starshipsandsuperheroes, that it took me so long to get out. I hope that the fact that it's longer than anything I've written lately makes up for that? I think I got all the elements that you wanted in it-it certainly has hurt/comfort going on!_

_I hope that you enjoy it, dear! :)_

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Merlin!

* * *

The day had started out like any other. Merlin was up before the sun, making his way through the trees that surrounded Camelot as he searched for an herb Gaius so desperately needed. As he sleepily stumbled his way around he knew that the older man was only sending him on the hunt for it as a way of punishment for his recent use of magic. It had been an unneeded use, admittedly, but Arthur had kept him so busy that day that he had just wanted to sleep, so he gave no thought to cleaning up the workroom for Gaius at the end of the day with a bit of help.

Though that night he had sent him to bed with nothing more than a quirk of his brow—which fully conveyed his displeasure, though how the man accomplished that Merlin would never know—and he had thought that that would be all. He really should have expected to be woken so early, he knew, but that didn't mean that he had to like it.

Once he had a basketful of whatever it was—henbane, his sleep addled brain supplied—he made his way slowly back to the castle, watching the soft glow that the slowly rising sun brought through the spaces between the trees, beautiful and deceivingly peaceful. The walk back was uneventful, lulling him into a relaxed state of mind.

It was at that exact moment the bandits chose to attack, jumping out from the trees and into the pathway before him with graceful landings, sharp smiles on their lips as one knocked the basket from his hands, the other quickly pinning Merlin to a tree, holding him there with a knife to his throat.

"You're the King's servant, aren't ya?" the man asked, his foul-smelling breath hitting Merlin seconds before the words processed fully. At the mention of Arthur the fear for his own well-being took a back seat, his vague plans that had been forming from the moment they appeared halting as his body stiffened, meeting the man's gaze straight on.

"Who wants to know?" he asked, not wanting to answer an affirmative until he knew their motive. It had been so long since the last attempt on the prat's life; he had been hoping that they'd make it through the summer without any more close calls. It had been too much to hope for, he guessed, considering how many attempts had been made from the moment he had arrived at Camelot.

Instead of answering him the bandit just leered, moving uncomfortably close, his hot breath on his ear making him shudder. "Jus' tell him that Cendrid is coming for him, a'right? And he needs to keep a better eye on his manservant; you never know who might take an interest." He breathed, the knife at his throat pressing just that bit harder and nicking, blood welling up in an instant.

Merlin gasped—he couldn't help it—and a moment later the knife and man were gone, his basket shoved hard into his chest. He stood there for a moment, staring ahead into the clear path, one arm holding the basket in a death grip while his other hand was pressed to his throat. It took him a moment to get over the shock, pressing at his neck to check how deep the wound was. Luckily it was shallow, barely bleeding; he knew that it would need to be wrapped anyways, and would leave a light scar.

Moving his neckerchief around so that it was covering the cut, pressing so it would stop the light flow of blood, he pushed himself off the tree, on edge and wary as he used his magic to sense for any oncoming danger hiding in the trees. It was a tense walk to the castle, Merlin not relaxing in the slightest until he was within the walls of Camelot; he allowed himself a brief moment to stop, trying to calm his upset magic while he thought of where Arthur would be, right at that moment.

The distant sound of swords meeting shields, followed by the loud laughter of the knights, alerted Merlin to where he was and he quickly made his way through the crowded market to the training field. If he was lucky he could relay the message speedily, so that he could get to Gaius faster. Though the cut was more shallow than deep, it would still need to be looked at more closely than his quick once over that he had done earlier.

Pressing at his neckerchief one last time to make sure that it was covering his injury well, Merlin stepped onto the training field, spotting Arthur easily amongst the group of armor clad knights. Pausing for a moment to take one last calming breath, he called out his master's name, raising his voice to be heard over the group's enthusiastic shouts and cheers. "Arthur?"

It took a moment for his call to be answered, Arthur giving a last piece of advice before jogging over to his manservant, his face lightly flushed, and a relaxed grin on his lips. "Merlin! Are you here to train with us?" he asked, a glint of glee in his eyes at the thought.

Looking at him and seeing how content he was, the genuine _fun _that he was finally enjoying, Merlin was loathe to tell him. In all of his years living in Camelot, seeing Arthur every day, he could count on one hand all the times he had seen him like this. It never lasted long, thanks to who he was and all the responsibilities that it entailed, so those moments when it happened Merlin wanted nothing more than to freeze time, to keep Arthur happy forever. It was the least that he deserved.

"No, sire. There…I have a warning for you." His grip tightened on the basket, hating being the one to take the joy off of his face. Knowing what he would say next, Merlin continued before he had the chance to even open his mouth. "Cendrid says he's coming for you. He sent two scouts ahead to deliver the message." He purposefully left out what else was said, not wanting to worry his friend when he had more important things to worry about—his own safety, and that of Camelot's.

Arthur cursed quietly, letting out one last moment of un-princely behavior before starting back to his knights, stopping halfway to look back at his friend. "Are you sure?" he asked, knowing that Merlin would not have lied about something like this but having to ask.

"Positive."

As Merlin watched, the knights went from joyful to serious; half the group followed Arthur to the castle while the other half went to the armory, leaving two very familiar men behind; they made their way to him quickly, worry evident on their handsome faces.

"Merlin, what happened?" Lancelot asked, his eyes taking in a quick perusal of his person.

"And don't say nothing did, even Arthur could tell that you didn't tell him everything." Gwaine warned, the look on his face so uncharacteristically stern that Merlin felt the urge to laugh, despite the bad timing of it. Despite knowing that the man could be serious, it was always so strange to see that expression cross his features.

With a long sigh he slowly unwraveled his neckerchief, wincing slightly when it tugged at the cut, causing it to bleed again as it had just started to heal. The sight of it drew low curses from his friends, gentle hands tipping his face up so that they could see it more clearly.

"Who did this?" Gwaine sounded furious, his voice low and heated.

"One of the scouts, when he was delivering the message. It's really not that bad, I just need Gaius to wrap it for me."

"Is that all that happened, Merlin?" Lance's voice was gentle concern, showing the contrast between his friends. Gwaine was more hotheaded to Lancelot's calm demeanor; it was a difference that the young Warlock needed in that moment.

"No. He…" here Merlin fidgeted, unsure of how to continue. How do you tell your friends that someone made a threat to you in a…_sexual_ way? Just thinking about it sent an uneasy tremor down his spine. "He said to tell Arthur to keep a better eye on his manservant. You…you never know who might take an interest." His grip went white knuckle on the basket handle, gaze trapped there as he avoided meeting their eyes. As much as he trusted them to not look at him with disgust, he did not want to see the pity there; that might just be worse, in a way.

A moment later that same gentle hand retied his makeshift bandage for him, another set of hands easing the basket from his fingers, taking one of his in theirs and squeezing briefly in comfort.

"Come on, Merlin, let's go and get that looked at. We'll meet up with Arthur later." Gwaine said, him on Merlin's right and Lancelot to his left, two of his most protective friends standing guard as they led him to his guardian.

* * *

"Arthur! Damnit, where did he _go_?" Merlin muttered, crouching low to the ground, senses open so he could hear if anyone approached. Within half an hour of their warning, Cendrid and his men had arrived at the castle, the advance warning barely giving them time to secure people in the citadel, where they would be safe. Merlin had started out near Arthur, but during the heat of the battle they were separated, the young Warlock not noticing until he looked around to find nary a familiar face. Once realizing that, he set off to find his friends—worried for Arthur, as always, but also concerned for himself for once. What if that man found him? He didn't want to even _think_ about what would happen.

A slightly shaky hand brushed across his injury, an uneasy tremor rushing down his spine. That man had looked determined, his interest in whatever he wanted to do with Merlin blatantly clear in his eyes. The servant had heard the rumors of what Cendrid's men did to those they took a shine to, every skin crawling detail that people were able to get the victims to tell. He did _not_ want to be another victim, another casualty; half of the people who ended up in their hands later took their own life. Everyone knew that they never shared all the details, that some of what happened was too awful to have to willingly relive; what could it possibly be that drove some of the strongest, battle weary men to take their own life for a reprieve? It did not bear thinking about.

With his worry and fear rapidly growing more and more present he missed his magic trying to warn him, therefor being caught unaware by the same two men who had found him before. The low throaty chuckle was the only warning he had before he was grabbed from behind, one grubby hand covering his mouth to block any noise he made while the other wrapped firmly around his waist, pulling him flush against someone's body.

"Well now, what d'we 'ave 'ere?" the hand on his mouth gripped tighter, tilting his head back enough for faces to be visible. Merlin glared at his captor, causing the man to grin. "It's the manservant! Looks like your master don't care much 'bout ya, eh?" he asked gleefully, his hand slowly inching down until it rested light but firm on his slender neck.

His words only caused Merlin to glare harder, the feel of his hands making his magic thrum hard just under his skin, fingers itching with the need to defend himself. He held back only because he was unsure of his chances of getting caught; with his luck, he would release it only for someone to stumble upon him, which would lead to nothing good, for anyone.

"Now, why don't we have a little _fun_?" his voice was husky, hinting as much as the foreign pressure at his side just what it was that he was wanting.

At those words Merlin could no longer hold back, not caring any longer about the possible consequences. His magic responded instinctively, a brief flash of gold the only warning before the men flew back and away, hitting nearby walls with sickening thuds. Not sparing a thought for them, knowing that they would not be a problem for him any longer, the young man ran, getting as far away from them as quick as he possibly could.

He ran blindly, his only intent to get away from the men who had violated him. Before long he found himself back in the thick of the battle; with even the quickest of glances it was plain to see that it was going in their favor, the number of men from Cendrid's army greatly diminished from what it had been at the start. Merlin's next intake of breath was let out with a relieved gust. If it was looking like this where the majority of the knights were, than there should not be many that he would have to work his way through to get to Arthur.

With that thought in mind he set off in search of the King, skimming along the edges of the combat to avoid being pulled into any of the fighting. It would not do to use his magic around so many of the Knights of Camelot, even if it was to save them. No, he would save such an idiotic move for his king; he could not allow him to get killed, even if it would lead to his own death.

Sooner than he would have thought he found him and his favored knights, each man coming out the victor by the time he made it out of the long hall and into the room. Standing beside Gwaine he watched as Arthur fought, deftly dodging his opponent's blade as he looked for an opening, finding it after a close call and moving in, ending it with one quick thrust of his blade.

A hush fell to the room, the only sound to be heard the soft but powerful words that Arthur was telling Cendrid, the regret in his voice that they could not settle their differences in a way that didn't end one of their lives. The bitter rejection of medical help, of the chance to save his life and end their feud once and for all. Arthur's disappointment in his enemy was only too clear, his quick sigh following the man's last breath the only outward sign of remorse for what he'd had to do that he allowed before he came their ruler again.

The battle may be done, but there was still so much to be done before anyone could relax.

* * *

That night found Merlin tiredly making his way to Arthur's room, having to make sure that he was no longer needed before he could go to his own room, where he would no doubt spend a restless, uneasy evening, counting the hours until he could reasonably be up and about. He entered his chambers without knocking, calling his name softly in case he was sleeping. An answering call of his name led him to the back of the room, where Arthur sat at the edge of his bed, skin still flushed from the heat of his bath, his hair damp and dripping onto the towel that lay across his shoulders.

Something in him relaxed at the sight of him, the tension in his magic softening in his presence. Noticing that he needed silence Merlin quietly made his way to him, stopping just in front of his friend and taking the towel in hand, gently drying his hair for him. Nothing was said until he was done, making sure to wipe away any stray drops of water that he saw. Once he was done, and laying the towel down to dry by the fire, Arthur chose to talk.

"Merlin…are you alright?" he asked, eyeing him carefully to catch any sign of a lie.

Merlin blinked, unsure of how to answer that. He really was not alright, but did he really want to tell Arthur that? The man had taken a life tonight; did he really need to be burdened with his servant's feelings of unease? Biting down on his lower lip he sighed noiselessly, looking down and away as he answered.

"I'm fine, sire. Are you okay?" he asked softly, glancing over at him as he tidied up a bit, hoping to keep the conversation off of him.

Arthur shook his head, disregarding the question entirely. "Don't lie to me, Merlin. I know that you did not tell me everything earlier." He paused a moment, giving him a chance to fess up without prompt. When he didn't, he continued. "What happened? And don't tell me nothing did, I can see how uneasy you are."

Glancing to the fire Merlin thought on his options. He knew that if he chose not to tell, that Arthur would let it be; but if he chose to tell—to tell him _everything _that had happened today, would he react in a negative way? Tossing his fears to the wind he turned his back to the flames, enjoying the warmth before he walked to his friend—his _best_ friend, which he was, regardless of their stations in life—taking a seat beside him on the bed, his hands folded on his lap as he thought of what to say—of _how_ to say it.

Taking one last deep fortifying breath Merlin started to tell Arthur his story, retelling him what happened when the message was delivered—but this time not leaving out any details. He showed him what they had done before telling what had transpired when they were separated, only bending the truth when he explained how he had fought them off. Hopefully they would not question him any further on it when the bodies were discovered.

By the end of the story he was visibly shaken, his hands drawn into tight fists as he tried to contain his emotions. Arthur said nothing for a long time, the only sign that he was upset the clenching of his jaw. Merlin appreciated the fact that he did not give him sympathy or platitudes, not sure that he could handle the pity that would accompany both. He had gone through so much over the years without anyone giving him either, and he did not need them to start now.

He did have to admit, though, that actually telling someone what had happened made him feel like a weight had been lifted off his chest. It did not make it any less awful, but knowing that someone knew left him feeling so much better. Not expecting anything to happen he was about to stand, muscles tensing in anticipation only to freeze in shock when he felt arms wrap around him in warm embrace. A soft gasp passed through parted lips as he relaxed into his hold, surprised but not wanting the moment to abruptly end.

He did not know how long they sat there for, their bodies turned to one another with strong arms gripping him tight, his face buried in his neck while his own arms were held between their torsos, palms flat on his naked chest. Without having to look Merlin knew that Arthur hesitated before he spoke, the moment of uncertainty surprising him.

"Do you…would you like to stay the night?" his friend asked softly, the slight pause in his words telling how nervous he was. Merlin frowned inwardly, making sure that the expression did not appear on his face. Arthur was confusing him, leaving him on shaky ground. But shaky ground that he sort of _liked_; the unexpected tenderness made him feel special, as ridiculous as that most likely sounded.

"I would." He answered just as soft, pulling back only when Arthur did. He cleared his throat, standing up when he did, looking at him in what Merlin could only describe as shyness.

"You can borrow a sleep shirt, if you would like."

Merlin smiled gratefully at him, going to dig through his wardrobe for the sleep shirt that he liked best; every time he puts it up he admires the softness of it. Eager to put it on Merlin rushed to the changing screen, quickly switching his worn out shirt for Arthur's. Reaching for his pants he paused, unsure what to do with his lower half. His pants were dirty from the day they'd had, and he did not want to sleep in them. On the other hand, though, he did not think that Arthur would appreciate it if he _didn't_ wear a pair of pants to bed.

With a big intake of breath he shoved his pants down, purposefully not looking Arthur's way as he put his dirty clothes with his, digging around the wardrobe until he found a pair of pants he thought would fit, putting them on with his back to the eyes that he could feel burning a hole into his back. He walked to the bed with flushed cheeks, crawling in and settling under the covers, lying on his back and staring up at the ceiling.

"You know that I would never let anything happen to you, right?" At his words Merlin rolled onto his side, looking into those clear blue eyes that were already looking over at him.

"I do. You're a good king, Arthur." He smiled proudly at him; he always knew that he would be the greatest king Albion had ever known, something that Arthur proved every day.

Arthur shook his head, closing his eyes for just a moment. "I mean _you_, Merlin. You..." he paused, slowly reaching out and resting his hand lightly on his cheek. "You are special. You're my best friend, and I—I love you, more than anyone else in the kingdom. There's nothing that I would not do to keep you safe, to make you _happy_."

Merlin felt heat run through him at his words, surprised into silence for only a moment before he replied in kind. "I love you too, Arthur."

He had just a moment to bask in the glow of the smile that lit up his King's face before soft lips pressed against his, their first kiss sparking something inside of him that caused his magic to rush happily through his veins, wanting to express his utter happiness with the moment but holding back with the knowledge that a display of his powers would only ruin the moment.

The kiss was short but felt like it went on forever; they pulled away with small smiles on their lips, gazing into one another's eyes. Wrapping Merlin in his arms Arthur drew him close, foreheads resting against each other as they basked in each other's presence.

"Goodnight, Merlin."

"Goodnight Arthur."

With one last soft kiss they closed their eyes, slowly falling into a fulfilling, relaxing sleep, safe and content wrapped up in each other's embrace.

* * *

_When I started this, Arthur was a Prince, not a King. But then Merlin went and changed that! I also did not know how it would end-whether the bed sharing was going to be platonic or not-and then Arthur made that decision for my by starting my cheesy ending. Geez, these boys._

_Thank you for reading, and I hope that you liked it! Leave a review? :)_

_I know the title doesn't really fit with the story, but I heard that line while listening to Demi Lovato's Never Been Hurt and just fell in love with it. n_n_

_Oh, I have a tumblr! _  
_You should follow me ;) I basically just talk about my writing lol  
I also have a poll up! Leave a vote? :b_


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